Page 22 of Tour Wars
She shrugged off his arm. “No, thanks.”
Her friend Chloe snickered. “Been there, done that, right, Marie?”
Had Paulo and Marie hooked up before? Maybe that was why they were constantly bickering. To his surprise, TJ barely felt a flicker of jealousy. If they wanted to reconnect in Greece, so be it. After all, he’d be spending the entire break with Emilia. Not thatanythingwould happen between them.
Emilia took a page out of the binder and handed it to Marie. “Check out this list of instructions. Even if TJ and I wanted to have sex—which we definitely don’t—it’s expressly forbidden.”
As Marie scanned it, her sour expression vanished. “You’re right. Those are some intense rules.” She passed it to TJ. “You’d better behave yourself.”
TJ reviewed the list. The last rule was in all-caps, which made him wonder if Giada had written it:
RULE 10:UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE GUIDES TO ENGAGE IN ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL ACTIVITY WITH ANYONE ON THE TOUR, INCLUDING THE GUESTS, THE DRIVER, OR ANY OTHER GUIDES. SUCH ACTIONS ARE GROUNDS FOR IMMEDIATE DISMISSAL.
Not a problem. Given how much Emilia disliked him, this was one rule TJ wouldn’t have trouble following.
CHAPTERNINE
After three months of bunking in a dorm-style room with five other archaeologists, Emilia was blissfully alone. She had her own room at the Hotel San Pietro, outfitted with a comfortable double bed, a large flat-screen TV, and a private bathroom. So what if the view outside her window displayed a boring brick wall? She was in Rome, on someone else’s dime.
As with all good things, this delightful solitude wouldn’t last. Starting tomorrow, she and TJ would be responsible for leading a ten-day tour across southern Italy. A tour consisting of thirty-three people, all from the US. Fortunately, Mateo—the former tour leader—had already arranged the airport transfers. All Emilia had to do was greet the guests when they arrived at the hotel and ensure check-in went smoothly. To ease everyone into the first day, the only activity on the agenda was an evening reception at the hotel bar, followed by dinner in a nearby restaurant.
After that, the job would entail a lot more work.
Don’t think about it now. One day at a time.
While Emilia prided herself on being self-sufficient, this was one of those occasions when she wished she could call her mom for advice. As a third-grade teacher, her mom had always relished the chance to take her class on field trips. She’d embarked on each excursion with the same level of energy as Ms. Frizzle, the excitable science teacher from the TV cartoonThe Magic School Bus—one of Emilia’s favorite shows when she was in kindergarten.
When Emilia had asked her mom how she kept up her enthusiasm while visiting the Milwaukee Zoo for the fifteenth time, her mom had said, “It might be my fifteenth time, but some of these kids have never been to a zoo. I want to make it fun and memorable.”
But was Emilia capable of makinganythingfun and memorable? Unlike her mom, she wasn’t known for her cheerful disposition.
At times like this, the grief over missing her mother hit her like a physical blow. Swallowing back her tears, she reached for the shopping bag she’d set on the bed. She opened a container of cookies, took one out, and bit into it, savoring the taste of the rich, buttery shortbread. Earlier that day, when she and TJ had first arrived in Rome, she’d stocked up on cookies, chocolate bars, and toffee, in case they needed a boost of energy while leading the tour. She still wasn’t sure how she was going to handle so much socializing, but at least he’d be with her to share the burden.
When a loud knock broke the silence, she suspected it was TJ. Who else would be pestering her? She got up and opened the door to her room.
TJ stood in the hallway. “I thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing. What’cha up to?”
In the past, she would have chafed at the intrusion, but she wanted to share what she’d accomplished. “Come on in. I’ll show you.”
After he shut the door behind him, she led him over to the bed, then scooted back onto it and picked up her laptop. “I’ve been doing background research on our guests. Most of them are on LinkedIn, Facebook, or Instagram—or all three.” She rarely dipped her toes into the world of social media, but people’s posts revealed a lot about them. Or, rather, what they wanted others to think of them.
TJ plopped down beside her on the bed. Like her, he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. His hair was damp, as though he’d come from the shower. She caught a whiff of his citrusy aftershave, which triggered a vivid memory. The last time they’d sat together on a bed had been that mortifying night in Philly when she’d kissed him. And hadn’t wanted to stop.
Maybe he’d forgotten it. She sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Did your research turn up any red flags?” he asked. “Anyone who might be a problem?”
You’re the problem. You’re sitting too close.She wanted to inch away or put a pillow between them as a barrier, but she’d look ridiculous. Instead, she passed him a composition book. “See for yourself. I’m keeping track of all the details here.”
He scanned the page where she’d jotted down notes about everyone, including their ages and where they were from. “Let’s see—we’ve got a lot of folks in their sixties and seventies. A few younger couples. Pretty much what I suspected. But this Davis McGowan guy is traveling solo, and he’s the same age as us. Weird, huh?”
Emilia turned her laptop so it was facing him. “Here’s his profile. He lists himself as a digital nomad. From what I can tell, he’s trying to get a foothold as a travel influencer, but he doesn’t have a lot of followers yet. Two months ago, he did a scathing takedown of Global Adventures, which got the most views of any of his videos. He took their six-day tour of Portugal and hated it. Apparently, the tour leader was a prick, the schedule was brutal, and the hotels were second-rate.”
“Yikes. We need to get on his good side. Make sure to be extra nice to him.”
She scowled. “Now you sound like Giada. I’m going to be extra nice to all our guests. Especially with creepy Luca watching my every move.” She pointed to another set of names on her list. “These two could be a problem. The Mangolds—Giles and Irene. They’ve traveled a lot, and they always post very honest, super-detailed reviews.”
He passed back the notebook. “This is great. I’ve been memorizing facts about Rome for two hours, but I didn’t think of stalking anyone on social media.”
